https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-89-Seven-Mysteries-of-the-Campus-Conclusion-/13511260/
Chapter 90
Chapter 90
[Scenario completed, calculating rewards.]
[Gained Experience Points: 5,000 | Game Currency: 50,000]
[Acquired Items/Equipment: None]
[Completed/Accepted Tasks: 2/2]
[Special/Hidden Tasks Completed: 0 | World View Unlocked: None]
[Terror Value Surge: 0 times | Maximum Terror Value: 0% | Average Terror Value: 0%]
[Your fear rating is Fearless. Eligible for an additional reward—please select later.]
[Gained Skill Points: 317]
[Skill Points Bonus: Experience Points ×10 | Game Currency ×100]
[Scenario Clearance Reward: Skill Card ×1]
[Settlement complete. Proceed.]
Before teleporting out, Feng Bu Jue remembered to return the lantern to Si Yu, so the item wasn’t included in the final tally.
This scenario’s rewards were unusually high. The virtual time consumed was only about two and a half hours, yet the experience points earned were nearly equal to what Feng Bu Jue had gained from his previous Derivative Being scenario.
As his level increased, scenario difficulty had also risen. Both variables—difficulty and time—affected experience gains.
Still, Feng Bu Jue had left the scenario with fewer items than he’d started with. This was a direct consequence of his approach to the game. For players like Class, or those with obsessive tendencies, prioritizing item collection, equipment hunting, side quests, and hidden tasks came naturally. In the scenario they’d just completed, another player might have ignored saving teammates. After all, if someone was simply trapped rather than dying, why not rush upstairs to search the four levels of the second classroom building? The odds of finding equipment or a side quest would be far higher.
Feng Bu Jue understood this logic perfectly—but chose to ignore it.
As mentioned earlier, he’d splurge on a high-end gaming pod, yet meticulously budget every bowl of broth noodles for the next month. He was a contradiction—someone who seemed capable of calculating the optimal choice for every decision, yet often acted impulsively or irrationally.
Some things thinking couldn’t resolve. Take the classic dilemma: If your mother and wife fell into a river, who would you save first? The “correct” answer would be to rescue the one who couldn’t swim first, maximizing survival chances. But then came the next question: What if neither could swim?
Here’s the advanced answer: Call for help. If bystanders assist, both might survive.
But what if you’re utterly alone?
Then you’d answer the woman asking: Let’s die together.
The truth was, humans weren’t machines. They couldn’t always make “correct” choices because life wasn’t about binary right or wrong. Countless such decisions shaped who we were. Post-event regrets or hypotheticals were meaningless—only those fleeting moments of resolve defined us.
[Player “Siyu Ruoli” invites you to a conference room.]
The system prompt echoed. Feng Bu Jue tapped the screen to accept, then walked to the elevator and pressed the [Conference Room] button.
This time, the door opened to Si Yu’s personal conference space.
Technically, all conference rooms looked identical—visiting someone else’s made no difference. The game lacked decorative furniture or customization items for now, though that might change later.
Si Yu sat at the table. Seeing him enter, she said, “You could’ve invited me to party directly in the public area.”
“Let me try…” Feng Bu Jue sat across from her and muttered two words: “Party.”
Si Yu snorted. “Use the menu!”
“Ah…” He chuckled awkwardly and initiated the party through the interface.
“Thanks for the scenario earlier,” she said.
“Nah, I think you carried most of the combat. I definitely couldn’t have handled it alone,” he replied.
Polite exchanges had limits. Si Yu dropped pretenses and cut to the chase: “I invited you here to ask something.”
“I’m not a Class player,” Feng Bu Jue blurted instantly.
“I wasn’t going to ask that.”
“Huh?” He floundered, his attempt at coolness failing. “…Oh.”
“Why’d you assume I’d ask about Class players?” she countered.
“Well… I figured you might be one. Maybe you wanted to recruit me to your studio.”
“If I were Class, I’d be over level 20 by now,” Si Yu replied, her tone factual rather than arrogant. “And if you were Class, you’d be higher than your current level after the beta test.” She paused. “I just wanted to ask—when you said you’re a novelist in real life… was that true?”
“Oh?” Feng Bu Jue blinked, surprised by the question. “Yeah. What about it?”
“What’s your pen name?” she pressed.
“‘Bu Jue.’ What’s going on?”
“Quick—what’s the scariest thing between men and women?”
“Getting married.”
“What advice does Detective Bai Cas love giving suspects?”
“Don’t bend over to pick up soap in prison.”
“You abandoned a novel two years ago. What was it called?”
“Murder the Internet wasn’t abandoned—”
“In Time Travel That Never Returns, what did the heroine whisper in the protagonist’s ear at the end?”
Feng Bu Jue interrupted: “She said, ‘I’ll wait for you in the future. Remember me.’” He exhaled. “My editor and I debated that line… eventually cut it. But you’re the first reader to ask. Anything else?”
Si Yu nodded. “No. I believe you now.”
Feng Bu Jue smirked. “Si Yu… you know, given my obscurity, even someone faking being a third-rate star wouldn’t bother pretending to be me.” He’d meant to say die-hard fan, but before he could finish—
“Nope. Not a fan,” she cut in.
“So how do you know all this?”
“Good memory.”
“And all those details…”
“Wide reading.”
“…Right,” he muttered, grinning.
Si Yu’s icy demeanor barely shifted, her responses sharp and defensive. She refused to admit being a fan, which Feng Bu Jue found oddly endearing. Discovering a gamer friend was a die-hard reader of his work sparked a smug satisfaction—a narcissist’s high.
Changing the subject, she said, “By the way… want to form a guild?”
“I haven’t even read the open beta’s guide yet. Besides a shared emblem, what’s the point?”
“A shared warehouse in the storage room. A guild tab in the social panel. For every guild member in a party, you gain +1% experience—5% with six. Also, weekly buffs based on guild rankings on the two leaderboards.” She listed key points; details required reading the manual.
Objectively, forming a guild was all upside.
“Sounds worth it,” Feng Bu Jue mused.
si yu assumed Feng Bu Jue had already decided when she said, "Don’t forget to add me after the meeting."
Feng Bu Jue paused thoughtfully before asking, "Honestly… with your skill level, why not apply to join one of the major guilds? They wouldn’t dare reject you, would they?"
"Big guilds are usually either backed by studios or run by wealthy players with time to spare." Though si yu herself came from a similarly privileged background, she chose not to mention it at the moment. "Guilds with studio ties recruit outsiders purely to strengthen their ranks, but outsiders rarely get access to core resources. Powerful players joining these groups are basically trading skill for benefits—straight business. The other type? Non-elite players dump money into flashy guilds just for fame, ego-boosting, or to flirt with girls. They recruit strong players as window dressing; common players as free labor; and pretty girls… well, you can guess their intentions."
Feng Bu Jue listened, genuinely surprised. He’d never heard a woman dissect gaming culture with such blunt cynicism. He’d certainly never encountered a female player who could utter "score with girls" so effortlessly.
"To put it simply", si yu concluded, "find like-minded friends and stay in a small guild."
"Never thought I’d hear that", Feng Bu Jue chuckled. He nearly said "kindred spirits" but caught himself. "More like… heroes think alike."
"I’ll collect my rewards and shop around the mall", she said, rising. "Let’s lock in at the mall’s 10th district unless something urgent happens. Might run into each other there."
Feng Bu Jue stood too. "I’ll check the game updates and prepare. I’ll message you when done."
They parted ways, each exiting the conference room separately to return to their login spaces.
...
The open beta patch notes weren’t lengthy—nowhere near the comprehensive guides from the closed beta. Feng Bu Jue finished reading within ten minutes.
The guild system mirrored standard Mmo mechanics. Requirements for forming one were reasonable: level 10, 100,000 credits paid to the system, and three other players’ signatures.
Instantly, Feng Bu Jue suspected Hiei Studio’s guild probably had exactly four members total.
The currency cost gave him pause. He could afford 100,000 credits, but that would delay buying equipment for attribute boosts. For si yu, however, 100,000 credits meant little—barely 50 real-world dollars. Closed beta veterans would’ve accumulated that easily.
He shrugged, deciding not to stress the purchase. He could play fine without upgrades. Current funds—242,000 credits after recent scenarios plus potential 140,000 from auctioning Kenny’s Hoodie—were ample. One or two more scenarios would get him everything he needed.
Currently level 13:
Title: Cold-Blooded Headhunter | Exp: 8,700/13,000 | Skill Points: 660 | Credits: 242,000
Proficiencies: Universal E, Mechanics E, Scouting E, Martial Arts E, Shooting D, Medicine F, Spirit Arts F, ???
Satchel (4/10): Mario’s Pipe Wrench, Eye of Hostility, M1911A1 Pistol, Echo Armor
Foot Equipment: Jazzy Moves
Storage (2/10): Puzzle Piece Card - Monkey, Casey Jones Mask
Skills: Hasty Repair, Brat’s Low Kick, Concussion
The final proficiency, "Summoning", intrigued him. Summoning skills required random consumables—summoning a horse might demand sacrificing a spoon, glass, water, or even flower petals. Each player’s requirements varied unpredictably. Other restrictions included single-use-per-scenario limits, long cooldowns, or environment-specific activation.
Forums buzzed with speculation about summoning, but no one had unlocked it yet—likely a mid-to-late game feature.
Still no auction confirmation. He didn’t mind—the cursed item would sell eventually. While risky for amateurs, its infinite taunt made it perfect for tanking in pro teams. Someone would snap it up.
Collecting his fear rating reward first, he chose experience points. Gaining 40% of current level cap added 5,200 Exp, pushing him to level 13-4 (900/14,000 Exp remaining). Another scenario with 60% progress (8,400 Exp) plus reward would hit level 13-5—just in time for Casey Jones Mask.
He drew a skill card:
【Spirit Sense Body Technique】
Active Skill | Permanently Mastered
Spirit Arts | Rarity: Common
Effect: Doubles base physical attributes (strength/speed). Drains 2% vitality every 5 seconds. Auto-stops at 1% vitality. 30-second cooldown after use. Cannot activate below 10% vitality.
Background: Basic technique from Guigu Sect’s Demon Subduing Chapter. Focuses purely on power gains without philosophical cultivation—considered heretical by traditional sects.
He drew:
【Spirit Sense Body Technique】
Active Skill | Permanently Mastered
Spirit Arts | Rarity: Common
Effect: Doubles base physical attributes (strength/speed). Drains 2% vitality every 5 seconds. Auto-stops at 1% vitality. 30-second cooldown after use. Cannot activate below 10% vitality.
Background: Basic technique from Guigu Sect’s Demon Subduing Chapter. Focuses purely on power gains without philosophical cultivation—considered heretical by traditional sects.
(End of Chapter)
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